


Give Me Blood

by droppingplanets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, India, Indian James Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droppingplanets/pseuds/droppingplanets
Summary: Young Indian revolutionary James Potter has very few priorities on his mind – overthrowing the British, looking after his friends, and pestering this strange new girl who's suddenly attending all the same protests he is. Alternate Universe, set in 1928 during the Indian independence movement.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of convenience, I haven't changed any Western names to Indian ones. However, it should be noted that all characters, unless specified otherwise, are Indian.
> 
> And thus begins the revolutionary Indian AU I've wanted to write for weeks. I know it's a bit of an unconventional one, and might require some historical context, so here's a link to a video that'll serve as a basic primer to the Indian independence movement. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoUAdTocj0E.) However, the work reads perfectly fine without context as well, so feel free to dive right in!
> 
> Lots of love to AO3 users YouBlitheringIdiot and MagicGirlinAMuggleWorld for their inputs. I definitely wouldn't have the courage to post this without their help, so definitely go check out their work and give them lots of love!

The shouts from the various vendors at the market overlapped with each other, a cacophony of yelling. As Lily made her way through the crowds of Chandni Chowk market, she reflected on how she’d never get used to seeing so many people gathered together. The market itself was enormous, but somehow it seemed too small for the number of people that had turned up. It was quite the stark contrast from her little village in Assam, located in the hills, with the houses no less than 200 metres away from each other.

Ever since she had moved to Delhi with her British fiancé, Severus, her life had changed completely. Nothing could have prepared her forthis teeming, vibrant city. Best of all, she had escaped the clutches of her evil sister Petunia back home.

She made her way through the crowds, taking in the various scents that drifted towards her in the market – unfortunately mixed in with the pungent smell of body odour. It was April, after all, and Delhi was a hot city.

Off in the distance, she caught a glimpse of what she’d been looking for – the vegetable stand, at last! Quickly slipping through the masses of people, she arrived at the back of the line. As she waited, she looked around. Chandni Chowk market would never cease to amaze; it was as modern as one could imagine, with streetlights and telephone polls everywhere, yet with multiple reminders of how the area dated back to Mughal times in the 16th century – archways, centuries-old mosques, cobbled footpaths – it was quite the sight to behold.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn’t notice it when someone pushed up against her right elbow and quickly took her spot in the line for the vegetable stand. Furious, she tapped him on the shoulder.

“What d’you think you’re doing? I was standing right there!”

The man – was he a man or a boy? He had so much youthful energy around him – smirked back in the most obnoxious manner possible. “I’m sorry, your highness.” He ran his hand through his hair, as if his appearance was all that mattered to him.

Lily saw red. Most of the time, she maintained a pleasant demeanour (not that her friends back home would have agreed), but this man was pushing all the wrong buttons. The hair, the cutting-in-line, the sarcasm; she could have punched him right then and there.

“Don’t call me that,” she said angrily. “And if you were actually sorry, you’d move out of the way, wouldn’t you?”

Somehow, the man’s smile widened. Behind his glasses, his eyes were sparkling with glee. Lily noticed him properly for the first time, taking note of his all-too-messy hair, his sharp jawline, and how good he looked in that red kurta. No one that infuriating was allowed to look that good, she grumbled to herself.

“I think I’ve earned my place in the line fair and square, don’t you think?” he said, grinning in the most annoying manner possible.

Lily was so angry that she couldn’t get any of her words out – and oh, did she have such fantastic insults ready to go. Before she could say anything, however, the man had reached the front of the line. He quickly made his transaction in Hindi before disappearing with yet another smile.

Whoever this man was, he needed to be destroyed.

* * *

“I’m home, Sev!” yelled Lily as she walked into her house. She set the shopping down on the kitchen counter before making her way into their shared bedroom. “The most annoying thing happened today,” she began, before setting off on her tirade about her encounter at the market. Severus barely seemed to be listening, lost in a book. He looked up every now and then, but beyond that, showed no signs of attention. As Lily concluded her rant, Severus finally met her eyes.

“Well, what do you expect? These Indians have absolutely no sense of manners,” he said.

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing you concluded from my story?”

“What else do you want me to say? They’re uncivilised brutes, and there’s a reason that they’re not the ones ruling the country,” he said offhandedly.

Lily sighed. She was far too used to comments like this from him nowadays, and normally she didn’t push the matter, but that day, she was too riled up to let this go. “Severus, I’m Indian. Does that mean you’ll be marrying an uncivilised brute?”

“No, of course not,” he said with no hint of sincerity. “You’re not like the others.”

This had crossed a line. There were only so many bigoted and blatantly insulting comments she could take from him about Indians before it reached a boiling point.

“You can make dinner yourself tonight, then,” she said venomously before stalking off. Before he could register what had happened, she was out the door.

With her only intention to get as far away from the house as possible, she started walking. The fact that she had nowhere to go, being new to the city, did not even cross her mind for a second. All she knew was that she had had enough of constantly putting up with Severus’s insults.

The sun was setting behind her, lighting up the sky with a crimson red. She took a second to calm herself and look around, remind herself why she’d fallen in love with Delhi. It had been quite the change from the rolling hills of her home in Assam. Ever since her parents had died and Petunia had taken guardianship of her, she couldn’t help but feel trapped. Here, in Delhi, she had a chance at a new beginning – a fresh start. She had to wonder time and again whether this new life was really one she wanted.

Sighing, she kept walking. It probably would have made sense to have returned home by now, but then again, Lily had a reckless streak which came through more often than she would have liked. Her thoughts raced as she strode forward, barely paying attention to where she was going.

When Severus – a young, British member of the Indian Civil Service – had been appointed to her village’s district in Assam, she never imagined she would grow to care for him the way she had. No one in the village had approved, of course, least of all her sister. It was unheard of for an Assamese girl like her to be married off to a British man. Isolated as she was in that village, she had little idea of why there was so much anti-British sentiment at the time. It was only when she had come to Delhi that she began to understand the kind of subjugation the British had imposed on the Indians. And by then, of course, she was already settled into her life with Severus. And she did like him a great deal, but there were just one too many occasions where he had crossed the line with her – whether it was threatening physical abuse or going on a bigoted rant about Indians. It made her wonder, far too frequently, whether she really wanted to be with him and whether this was the life she wanted.

* * *

James Potter, having returned from the market, entered his flat with all the confidence and enthusiasm he could muster.

“I come bearing gifts!” he announced loudly, to no response. All he could hear was the scratching of pen against paper. Remus, of course, was hard at work.

“How’s the article coming along?” he asked. Remus looked up from his desk and sighed.

“Not very well,” he grumbled. “I’ve been going over the draft declaration from the Simon Commission for hours but the legal terminology is a bit much for me to handle. All these terms sound absolutely alien to me, and I really don’t know how I’m supposed to write about the Commission with any sort of authority.” Just as he was done speaking, a paper airplane hit him in the face.

“And it doesn’t help that Sirius over here won’t stop chucking his playthings at me,” he said, pointing at one Sirius Black, stretched out on a sofa. At the mention of his name, he waved.

“Look, don’t beat yourself up over this,” said James. “We know that the Simon Commission is up to no good. I’ve already started organising a demonstration against them.” He reached into his kurta pocket and pulled out a hand-drawn flyer. “What do you think?”

“I think,” said Remus, turning towards James, “that you should stop jumping the gun before we have some clarity on what they’re doing in the first place. We have to know what we’re protesting against, yeah?”

“It’s those damn Brits,” Sirius chimed in. “When do they ever do anything that’s not worth protesting against?”

“You’re technically still a ‘damn Brit,’” Remus reminded him. Sirius held his hands up in protest.

“Don’t go associating me with the same people that go around shoving their authority up our arses every day,” he said. “You know I’m not one of them anymore.”

“Yes, and we’re all very grateful for it,” said James. “Look, Remus, just start with the basics – no Indians on the Commission in the first place! The British think they’re going to completely reform their administration of India without the input of a single Indian? Fat chance!”

“Don’t you think I’ve covered all of that?” said Remus, clearly frustrated. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but went quiet. James raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the matter, heading in towards their kitchen.

“Oi, what about that friend of yours, that Peter whatshisface?” said Sirius, suddenly sitting up straight. “Didn’t he study Law at Stephen’s with you?”

“Peter Pettigrew? Yes, I’m still in touch with him actually, he’s got some sort of fancy higher-up position in the Delhi High Court now,” said Remus, recalling his old friend from college.

“There you have it – a legal expert sitting right in front of you! Problem solved.”

“I don’t know, he didn’t really seem like the rebellious type when we were friends.” Remus seemed hesitant.

“You don’t need to find yourself a revolutionary, you just need someone to define some terms for you. What’s the matter with that?” Sirius’s eyes met Remus’s, and he realised that there was far more on Remus’s mind than he was letting on. “What’s wrong?”

Remus sighed. “James went to bat for me when he got me this job writing at the Hindustan Times. You remember how much trouble I had holding any sort of employment before that – no one cares if you’ve attended a top-notch Delhi University college if you’re a lower caste. Now it just feels like I’m letting James down.”

“Stop it,” said Sirius sternly. “You deserve this job because you’re a capable and perceptive writer. And you’re never going to hear me compliment anyone like that ever again, so don’t forget I said that.”

Remus smiled somewhat reluctantly. “Fair enough. I’ll call Peter.”

James walked back into the main sitting room of the flat. The tiny balcony overlooked the setting sun, and it made for a spectacular sight to watch the scarlet streaks slowly submerge behind the New Delhi skyline.

“Did you hear about the protest at Jantar Mantar the other day?” he asked, taking a seat. “Apparently there was a lathi charge again.”

Sirius’s nostrils flared. “Typical of those bastards. They can feel themselves losing control over the Indian people, and so they’ll retaliate the only way they know how. About time they got a taste of their own medicine.”

“You sound like Khudiram Bose,” remarked Remus offhandedly.

Sirius frowned. “Who was that again?” Having only recently defected from his British family and run away to New Delhi, he wasn’t as up-to-date with the happenings of Indian revolutionary society as he would have liked to have been. It didn’t help that his Hindi was rudimentary at best, and he often felt like an outsider at most demonstrations – a concern that he kept to himself.

“20 years ago, wasn’t it?” said James. “He blew up something, I think. Or someone.”

Remus wouldn’t ever say it in as many words, but he took pride in being as well-read as he was, being able to recall with clear accuracy about how he had attempted to kill a British judge multiple times in 1908. 

“He hid his bomb inside a book? That’s inspired,” said Sirius, his eyes lighting up. “We should do something like that.”

James laughed. “It does seem like something Sirius would do.” Remus nodded along in agreement. The two hadn’t known Sirius for very long, but by this point, they knew him well.

“Now shut up, both of you,” said Remus. “I’m calling Peter right now, I really do need his help with this article.”

* * *

By the time Lily returned home, it was nearly dark. She had resigned herself to the shouting she would get from Severus, but she knew by now that there was no point in retaliating. It was just a matter of biding her time until it was over. A depressing approach, definitely, but as of now, it seemed like she had no other choice. She had agreed to the marriage, and here she was. Living in New Delhi, however, almost made up for the more unpleasant aspects of being engaged to Severus.

Just as she expected, the moment she walked through the door, he was off on a tirade – about her safety, about how he’d done nothing but care for her, how dare she repay him in this way, etcetera etcetera. She’d heard it all before, and this time wasn’t really any different. Ten minutes in, she snapped.

“Spare me the lecture,” she said, and retreated into her bedroom. Severus seemed to realise that the battle had been won long ago and decided not to press the matter any further.

“I’m sorry,” he said, entering the bedroom. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you. I know it’s hard adjusting to this new way of life.”

Lily looked up at him and sighed. She hadn’t expected an apology, but then again, it had been moments like this that reminded her why she’d grown to care for him. He was far more human and compassionate than any other British men she’d personally encountered.

“Things are just strange right now, you know?” she said. “We’ve barely been in Delhi for two months, and it’s all very exciting but it’s not home yet. It’ll just take me some time, that’s all.”

Severus nodded along, secretly glad that he’d pacified the situation. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what I’m here for. How about this, let’s go out tomorrow evening. I’ll take you to Connaught Place, it’s been a while since we’ve had an evening to ourselves.”

Lily smiled. “That’d be nice.”

Severus smiled back, albeit somewhat awkwardly. “Come on, I’ll help with dinner. I’m starving.”

* * *

The next day, the offices of the Hindustan Times were bustling. James and Remus headed in to work as they had for the last few weeks, while Sirius went off to participate in what he called, “secret revolutionary activities,” in typical Sirius fashion. He always did have a flair for the dramatic.

Remus, having spoken to Peter the previous evening, invited him to the office at lunchtime. It just so happened that this coincided with the time of Sirius’s visit, leading to an extremely awkward interaction. Remus did his best to make his old college friend feel at home, but Sirius seemed to delight in terrifying Peter with casual mentions of all the illegal activities he’d gotten up to. Having had enough of his interference, James and Remus kicked him out of the office without a hint of regret.

“Sorry about him,” Remus apologised, returning to the table where Peter was sitting, who was considerably more nervous than before, although he tried not to let on to it.

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “So about the Simon Commission…?”

What followed was a considerably more productive conversation. James, meanwhile, was wrapped up in his story following the pursuits of the Indian National Congress and its more prominent members. This was by no means an easy story to research, considering how many party insiders he had to get in touch with to interview. As a result, he was in and out of the office all day, constantly setting up meetings and then leaving to attend them.

By 6 PM, James was exhausted after having spent his day walking around the social hotspots of New Delhi. There was only so much excitement he could take, and he couldn’t wait to return home to some lemonade and a terrible novel.

“Guess what I did today,” exclaimed Sirius the moment James walked through the door of their flat. Not waiting for a response, he held up the flyer that James had drawn the previous day. “Over 500 people are going to show up at Rajpath Friday evening, two weeks from now!”

Despite the long day’s work, James’s eyes lit up with excitement. “All against the Simon Commission? And in one day? That’s brilliant, Sirius!”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face, you see,” said Sirius, beaming. This was a far greater achievement for him than it would have been for anyone else, considering his ineptitude at Hindi, the language most commonly spoken in Delhi after English. “Not to mention, Remus got his article done today, so once it’s printed in tomorrow’s edition, the word will have spread even more!”

Their joy was contagious, and so when Remus walked in through the door a few minutes later, he couldn’t help but be caught up in their feverish excitement. One had to celebrate the small victories, which was something all three of them had learnt upon facing defeat after defeat.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew had had an odd day. When his old friend from college, Remus, had requested his assistance on a story, he had jumped at the opportunity to take a break from his work. He wasn’t particularly enjoying his time as a lawyer in the Delhi High Court. For one, none of the really interesting cases came to him. He picked up the leftovers that the British lawyers couldn’t be bothered to handle – sedition, light treason, slander – the usual. Secondly, the interactions he had had with his colleagues that morning had not been pleasant to say the least.

“Morning, Pettigrew,” said William Smith snidely when he walked into the legal offices of the courthouse that day. One could almost imagine it to be a pleasant greeting, but Peter knew better.

Peter shuffled in, his head down. He pretended not to notice the others exchanging glances before he felt the hot splash of tea against his chest.

“Oh no, how clumsy of me,” said Smith, not looking sorry at all about having “accidentally” spilled his tea.

That hadn’t been the best note to begin the day on, but hopefully things would get better. Yes, sometimes it was terrible being the only Indian amongst a crowd of young British lawyers, and it often meant that he was the most convenient scapegoat, but it had its redeeming moments. Sometimes.

When he arrived at the offices of the Hindustan Times – a newspaper known to often cross the line of what was considered revolutionary, or even seditious – he didn’t know what to expect. From what he remembered of Remus, he was a quiet but extremely intelligent chap. Seeing him in with this lot was quite a surprise. Then again, Remus had always been full of surprises, such as when he had led the Stephen’s debate team to a victory at an extremely prestigious tournament, despite never having debated in his life prior to that.

Everyone at the office was very welcoming when he arrived. There couldn’t have been anyone older than forty in sight, which was an alien concept to him. The High Court enjoyed its aged stalwarts, and to be surrounded by people his own age was a breath of fresh air. There was an energy in the air, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but whatever it was, it was embodied by everyone he saw.

His meeting with Remus went well, for the most part, apart from when some Sirius character burst in and started talking about all the illegal activities he’d gotten involved with. Being a lawyer, Peter was all too familiar with criminals and the like, and this made him exceedingly nervous. He attempted to ignore his anxieties, although not very well, and continued to help Remus with his story on the Simon Commission. It was an extremely productive half an hour, and he left feeling good about himself – something that didn’t happen often at work very often.

The rest of his day was nondescript enough, but things only got interesting once he reached home to a call from Remus.

“Hi, Peter, some of us are heading out to celebrate the work we wrapped up today. Since you were such an essential part of the Simon Commission story, I was hoping you’d come as well. Meet us at Connaught Place around 7:30 PM?”

Peter couldn’t say no to the chance for some excitement after ages, and he agreed enthusiastically. It was only a few minutes later that he realised Sirius Black would be attending as well, but he decided to repress his worries about sharing drinks with a criminal.

At 7:30 PM, on the dot, Peter was standing at the main square in Connaught Place. The newly-constructed arcade had become a go-to for fashionable young members of Delhi society. Sirius often called it the headquarters of the Indian bourgeoisie, but that didn’t stop him from frequently enjoying a drink at one of the pubs present there.

James, Sirius, and Remus were lost in conversation as they proceeded towards the agreed-upon meeting point. They were debating the finer points of Russian literature – something that they all felt passionately about, oddly enough. Remus disengaged from the debate for a few minutes to look around for Peter, and spotted him off in the distance . He beckoned the others over towards him.

“Hello, Peter,” said Remus, smiling warmly. Peter waved as James and Sirius introduced themselves.

“No criminal activity today, I promise,” said Sirius, attempting to put him at ease. “I made most of it up anyway.” He leaned in close. “Or did I?” He got a smack over the head from James.

“Don’t mind Sirius, he just thinks he’s the second coming of Marx and Lenin rolled into one,” he said.

“Alright, where to?” asked Sirius.

“The Three Broomsticks,” said James, his eyes lighting up. “I heard about it at work. It’s just opened up and apparently it’s the place to be.” Remus nodded along. “I’ve heard great things about it as well.”

“The Three Broomsticks it is!” declared Sirius. “Peter, you should know that normally, we spend at least twenty minutes arguing over where to go. This is a first for us.”

“I still maintain that Wenger’s is better than Flurry’s,” said James, frowning as he recalled the argument that had taken place last week.

“Agreed,” said Peter, speaking up for the first time. “They have the best sandwiches by far out of anywhere in Connaught Place.”

James grinned and slung around an arm around Peter’s shoulder. “I like you already, Peter!”

“We’re getting sidetracked,” said Remus.

“Yes,” agreed Sirius. “We’re here to get sloshed, not to debate sandwiches.”

“No one’s getting sloshed, it’s a weekday,” grumbled Remus. “I’m not going to be responsible for dragging you lot back home while you’re too inebriated to walk again.”

“One time,” protested Sirius, and got a whack over the head for his troubles. “Fine, I deserved that. Either way, let’s go!”

It took a while to locate the pub. It was in a dingy corner of the marketplace, an area that most people wouldn’t frequent often. While this may have induced some doubts in potential patrons, the moment they walked in, all their doubts were put to rest.

“Wow,” breathed Sirius, looking around. “This is the coolest place I’ve ever been to.”

Although Sirius was often prone to exaggeration, the others agreed with him on this front. The interior of the pub was quite the sight to behold – a record player in the corner, posters everywhere (of the more revolutionary kind, at that), even the odd bookshelf – this was far more than just any old pub. Not to mention, there was a distinct lack of anyone British.

James grinned and proceeded towards the bar. “This is our new home,” he said excitedly.

Three rounds of drinks later, the atmosphere amongst the four had changed distinctly.

“And you know,” Peter slurred, almost close to tears. “I try so hard to fit in with the rest of them but they just keep giving me shit and I don’t know what to do.” James, swept up in the emotion, gave him a warm hug.

“You’re a far better person than them, Peter, you know that,” said Sirius enthusiastically. Remus nodded along.“You’re kind and you’re considerate,” proceeded Sirius loudly.

“Is true,” insisted Remus, no stranger to inebriation himself despite his claims to the contrary. “I couldn’t have gotten that article done without you, and you know how much that meant to me.”

Peter smiled, considerably less sad now. “You chaps are the best,” he said. “I don’t know why I waste my time trying to impress those bastards at work.” Sirius patted him on the back.

“Sirius, I have to ask,” said Peter turning towards him. “How did you fall in with this lot? I wouldn’t have expected –“ he trailed off, realising that he might have encroached on a sensitive area.

Sirius laughed bitterly. “You can finish that sentence,” he said. “Wouldn’t have expected a Brit to be doing what I’m doing right?” Peter nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

“Well,” continued Sirius. “It’s quite the story you see. I’m a Black, and my family is old, old, wealth, dating all the way back to the East India Company.” He sat up a little straighter. “My lovely family has been stationed in India for decades – some of us, running exploitative industries. Others, holding positions of authority in the government. But there’s one thing we all have in common.” He looked Peter in the eyes. “We’re part of a rich tradition of fucking over every single Indian we find.” He laughed again, the bitterness in his tone obvious.

“Until me, that is,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I besmirched the family name and fucked off to join hands with the very people they think are the scum of the Earth. And that’s how I ended up here, after I met James and Remus at this underground meeting and they changed my life forever.”

“Cheers to that,” said James, holding up his glass. Sirius and Remus clinked glasses with him, while Peter took a moment to register what he’d just heard.

“You have the backbone to stand up for what you believe in,” he said. “I don’t even know how to do that. Hell, I don’t even know what I believe in.”

“You’ll get there,” said Remus, slightly more sober than the rest. “It’s not an easy path to follow, but it’s the right one.” He looked up at the clock in the corner. “Come on, it’s 10 PM. We have work tomorrow.”

“Fuck work,” proclaimed Peter dramatically. Remus attempted to pay off their tab while James engaged in a brief argument with him. Finally, they agreed to split the bill. The four staggered out of the bar, clearly in no condition to engage in heightened cognitive activity, which is why it was almost poetic justice that this was the moment that James collided with one Severus Snape, accompanied by his fiancée Lily Evans

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled and noticed Lily. “Hey, it’s Vegetable Girl!” He smiled happily at the sight of Lily.

Lily’s eyes widened when she realised who this was. “No way,” she muttered under her breath. It was the man from the vegetable stand the previous day, the absolute bane of her existence. Severus looked furious, and she was inclined to agree.

“You have some nerve,” she said, walking up to him. “After what you did at the market?”

“Whatever, Vegetable Girl,” he said casually. Severus walked up to him, seething with anger.

“If you say another word to my fiancée –“ he started, but was interrupted by Lily.

“I can fight my own battles, thanks,” she said. James looked between the two, while Remus attempted to pull him away from the potential conflict. He smiled knowingly. “I see what’s going on here,” he said, gesturing between Lily and Severus, not realising that he was about two seconds away from getting punched.

“We could use someone like you, temper like that,” he said to Lily. He pulled a crumpled flyer out of his knapsack and gave it to her. “Think about it.”

And just like that, he was off into the night, his friends in tow. Severus was still seething, just one tipping point away from erupting. Lily, although just as furious, couldn’t help but be curious about what James was talking about. She shoved the flyer into her own bag before Severus could notice it, and motioned for them to keep moving. A few moments later, anyone standing within 50 metres of Severus could have heard his exclamation about, “those dirty Indians!”

Unknown to all those involved, this encounter would change their lives forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to maintain a weekly posting rate, at least for now. I'm not too swamped with work just yet and have plenty of free time on my hands. Also, I'm in the market for a beta for this fic, so if you're interested, please feel free to contact me!

Organising a protest was far more work than James could have imagined. Apart from dealing with the obvious logistical issues was the far more pressing matter of ensuring the protestors’ safety. He had attended far too many protests that had been interrupted by the police for his own liking, and he was one of the lucky ones who had escaped with non-critical injuries.

He paused for a second, taking a break from bending over a notebook and scrawling hurriedly as he recalled some of the worst ones. Screams of pain, an onslaught of batons and sticks, free-flowing blood, a woman bent over in terror, holding her hands up in defence all flashed before his eyes.

He shook his head. Have to focus. If he let himself go down the rabbit-hole of all that he had seen, he’d never get anywhere. The fight against the British was hard enough as it was, and he didn’t need to induce terror in himself on top of all that.

Delegating tasks had been easy enough. Sirius had taken to his job with his usual gusto, going around stirring up support each day. Despite being very obviously British himself, he had the kind of disposition that made people on the street absolutely comfortable about talking to him. James had observed him quietly one day when the two were out putting up flyers.

“Have you ever felt personally victimised by the British establishment?” he had called out cheerfully, attracting a great deal of attention. Various people had walked up to him, enquiring as to what he was talking about, and occasionally, whether he was insane for declaring his allegiances loudly. James had often wondered about this himself, and the response he got from Sirius had given him a lot to think about.

“You know they’re never going to arrest a white man, so why not make the most of it?”

James suspected that a lot of it had to do with this being his own particular form of rebellion against his family, but didn’t probe the matter further. It became clear that he was making more of an effort to distance himself from his heritage every day.

He’d spent a lot of time analysing what was going on with his friends, and not enough working, he decided. It was almost an involuntary action. Rising to protect his friends came naturally to him, and he couldn’t help but feel helpless at times when it came to making sure they were okay.

Almost as if on cue, his eyes flitted towards Remus; in his usual position, bent over a notebook at his worn-down desk.

“You okay, Remus?”

As if he were roused from sleep, he suddenly shot upright. “What? Sorry? Yeah, why do you ask?”

James didn’t really have a genuine answer. “Just checking. You’re working so much harder than the rest of us, I think you could use a break.” Since Sirius wasn’t at home, he thought he could have a more personal, one-on-one conversation with Remus rather than the usual banter the three of them shared. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t trust Sirius with this conversation, but some conversations were just better had with fewer people.

“You know how much work we have ahead of us, James,” said Remus. “I’m in the middle of drafting some letters to get the word out.”

“I know, but you worked yourself to the bone at the office as well. You didn’t even give yourself five minutes to relax after getting home before starting off on this.”

Remus sighed. “What do you want me to say? Both of us knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But we understand that some things are bigger than ourselves.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to drive yourself to the grindstone every single day.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” It was evident that Remus was getting increasingly frustrated. “I have to work twice as hard just to be noticed, because the moment people see my last name, they immediately realise who I am and my caste identity just doesn’t go away, no matter how hard I try.” He rummaged in his drawer for a second and pulled out a few envelopes. “I’m not even going to talk about the kind of shit I faced every day, but here.” He thrust the envelopes at James. “Rejection letters from newspapers. Read and maybe you’ll understand. Every single one of them, never based on the merit of my work but on the last name that makes it clear that I’m not one of them. You knew I was struggling to maintain a job before The Hindustan Times but did you ever stop to think why?”

James didn’t quite know what to say. Remus sighed and took a moment to compose himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m not bitter. It’s just the way it is. People like me are never going to have the same standing as the ones we’re surrounded by.”

“Remus, I can’t pretend to understand, but damn it, you don’t have to do this by yourself anymore. Sirius and I aren’t your mates just for the laughs, we’re here for you no matter what. You don’t have to take on this burden entirely by yourself.”

Remus said nothing. James knew that this was something he was still struggling with, talking about the struggles he faced because of his caste, and the rejections of his childhood had shaped him in a way that would never quite go away. But James would be damned if he let Remus continue to pretend as if he was managing completely fine on his own while he secretly took on more work than he could handle.

“I know. Yeah,” he finally forced out, still seemingly in thought.

James knew that that was the most response he was going to get. Even his outburst had been so uncharacteristic of him; he was normally so calm and composed. But at least this was some sort of progress. Remus was so reluctant to accept any help, and when James had procured him a job writing at The Hindustan Times, it had taken days of persuasion before he agreed to accept.

Right then, Sirius entered the apartment. Looking around, he seemed to feel the serious environment, and in usual Sirius fashion, decided to lighten the mood. “So I met this absolute bastard of a chap on the road today…”

What more was there to be said? Sirius had his own approach to dealing with problems of this sort, but James noticed that sometimes, Remus was more willing to open up to Sirius exactly because he treated things in a much more light-hearted manner. If it meant that he had someone he could talk to, then that was all that mattered. Besides, he knew that deep down, Remus understood that James would do anything for him. They had suffered through enough scrapes and protests turned ugly to have come out of it all with a bond that was built to last.

James listened to Sirius as he narrated his story of the fight he had gotten into that day. Sirius had an unusual knack for attracting trouble, which in this business might not have been the most convenient skill to have, but somehow, his head was still attached to his neck. That was more than they could hope for.

“…could have almost punched him, but quite an audience had gathered by this point, so I figured it was best to tell him where he could shove his ugly face and leave it at that,” Sirius concluded his story.

“I don’t know how you get yourself within an inch of getting your arse kicked every other day,” chuckled Remus. “But it does make for some great stories.”

“Getting my arse kicked? Please. I would have sent him packing,” huffed Sirius. “You have no faith in me, Remus.”

“To be fair, you seem to escape with all your limbs still intact each time,” said Remus.

“Don’t encourage him,” said James.

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, Potter,” said Sirius. “You’re worse than me.”

“Absolutely not! I know when to make a tactical retreat.”

“If a tactical retreat is what you call making a run for it. Remember that time that big bloke got up in your face for putting up a flyer outside his shop?”

“He was really big.”

“I think it was less to do with the flyer and more to do with how James accidentally called his career worthless,” said Remus.

“Sometimes I say stupid shit, I’ll accept that.” Despite himself, James grinned. It seemed that balance had been restored.

* * *

Lily, meanwhile, had begun taking full advantage of Severus’s long workdays. She was out and about more often than not – exploring her neighbourhood and the nearby area as much as she could. There was a certain thrill to be felt in taking rickshaws through the streets of Karol Bagh or visiting the bookshops of Paharganj. There was a great deal to see and experience in the streets of Delhi, and as it turned out, people to meet.

“I like your kurta,” she heard one day while sitting on a park bench in Hauz Qazi with a book. Roused from her daydream, she looked up to see a woman about her age smiling down at her.

“Oh, this?” She glanced at her kurta – almost a novelty item, covered with little drawings of tigers. “Thank you,” she said, smiling.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Without waiting for a response, the woman sat down. Lily was a little taken aback at her forthcomingness but appreciated it all the same.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” said the woman.

“What gave it away?”

“Just the look of awestruck wonder you had while staring at a tree, while most of us who are from Delhi have had our spirits crushed by the ruthless system.” Despite her claims, her spirits didn’t look crushed at all. Indeed, there was a spark in her eyes and she looked like she had a lot to say.

“I’ve barely been here a month,” admitted Lily. “But there’s so much to see! How do you ever get tired of it?”

“Ah, it might have something to do with the boot of Western imperialism trying to stomp on us every day.” Lily was a little surprised. She had heard very little anti-British sentiment back home and was still getting used to the open distaste that so many people seemed to have for the British (least of all, the flyer she had hidden in her room that proclaimed open revolution).

“I will admit, that’s not an area of expertise for me,” she said. Perhaps it would be best not to mention that she was married to a British bureaucrat, at least until she could find out more.

“Well, then we’ll just have to educate you, won’t we?”

“How do you know I’m not a British spy?” she asked, curious as to how she was being openly recruited for a cause she admittedly knew very little about.

“Well,” said the woman, “I hardly think a British spy would be so proudly carrying around a copy of Gandhi’s autobiography.” She motioned to the book in Lily’s lap.

Damn it. It had been one of her most interesting purchases from the bookshop in Paharganj, and she had been warned by the shopkeeper to be careful about who she shared it with.

“Tuesday, at 6 PM. Come to The Three Broomsticks in Connaught Place. Ask for Dorcas Meadowes, the bartender’s a friend of mine. He’ll let you in.” She leaned in. “Oh, and bring that book. Gandhi has a few fans amongst us.” Just as quickly as she’d appeared, she was off, her braided hair bouncing behind her.

Lily was just about ready to burst with curiosity. In her village in Assam, she had been fairly sheltered from stories of the revolutionary movement. Indeed, whenever she had asked Severus about it, he had declared it to be nothing more than a minor annoyance. However, as she’d come to learn from her time in Delhi, there were signs of the movement everywhere; posters and leaflets around the city that varied from oddly educational to simply loud calls to action, the occasional demonstration breaking out on the streets with passionate chanting, even bookshops that were full of reading material on the revolution, along with some history and political philosophy.

Despite herself, Lily smiled. She had no idea where she stood on the matter yet, not having experienced the worst of the British administration, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it?

* * *

Peter had been given an important task, and he was determined to carry it out to the fullest. When James had said that his position as a lawyer would be invaluable to the movement, he had puffed up with pride (never mind that he was still hesitant about just how involved he wanted to be with the movement). Unfortunately, his heart sank the next moment when James told him what he wanted from Peter.

“We need a permit to gather at Rajpath, two weeks from now. The 15th of April. Can you do it?”

Peter hesitated. “Er, you know they’re not exactly going to be happy about me asking permission to protest against them.”

“Make something up, say it’s for a parade in support of someone or the other – as long as it’s someone non-controversial,” said James. “Please, Peter, we really need this. I can’t be responsible for the police charging in on our protest. No one’s getting hurt on my watch.”

Peter was torn. On one hand, he really wanted to do what James had asked of him, but at the same time, he doubted he could pull it off. Fortunately, Remus came to his rescue.

“Don’t worry, Peter, I’ll help you write up a proposal. We’ll think of a plausible cover story together that doesn’t get you in trouble.”

The sitting room of James, Remus, and Sirius’s flat had become the main headquarters for all tasks to do with organising the upcoming protest. Ever since Remus’s article on the Simon Commission, the four of them had begun to feel like the fight against it was their own personal project. As such, they took to it with enthusiasm. Remus took over the rickety table and chair in the corner. James spread out on the tiled floor, while Sirius and Peter shared two ends of the sofa. They fell into a rhythm, pausing occasionally to exchange snacks and insults.

“Oi, pass the samosas.”

“We’re all out.”

“What? That can’t be possible. When I went to the kitchen there were six left in the tray!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate.”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m not writing a single word more until I get a samosa in my mouth.”

“Oh, is that how you’re playing it? Why don’t we talk about who finished all the peanuts?”

“That’s a low blow, and you know it.”

“It’s just samosas, why are you blowing a load over this?”

“Just samosas? Remus, you cad, how dare you?”

“Have you noticed Peter’s been quiet this entire time?”

“Don’t look at me! I’ve been working on this proposal for the past hour.”

Things continued in that manner each evening. It became an unspoken agreement that they would meet at the flat after their respective workdays ended, and as each day passed, they became more and more intensely focused on their tasks. With some help from Remus, he finished up his proposal quickly enough and had worked out a nice little trick that would ensure he got away scot-free, and not have his career be ruined by this little stunt. Credit for that was also due to Remus since James had put his foot down and said that he would not have Peter go through with it unless they were sure that he would be safe. Peter had appreciated the sentiment quite a bit.

He strode into work the next day at 9 AM, newfound confidence instilled in him by his new friends, and a spring in his step. Even his usual aggressors at work seemed to notice something different about him and left him alone for the most part.

When the time came, he went to the permits office and left the proposal on the table discreetly, accompanied by a British colleague. He had used a stamp from his office to ensure that it would be fast-tracked and bypass the usual bureaucratic processes. If there was anything Peter was an expert on by this point, it was the immense bureaucracy involved in the administrative and legal offices of New Delhi. He had realised that most problems of this nature could be solved by simply bringing along a British face to ensure that the powers-that-be were satisfied that no dirty Indians were involved.

Peter reflected that his knowledge and experience in this respect had gone overlooked so far, but his new friends appreciated him for it. Not only that, but they also looked after him. There was something quite heartwarming about it all.

* * *

Severus Snape had fallen into a routine a month after having moved to Delhi. He had to admit that there was something vaguely comforting about returning to an urban setting after the six months he had spent stationed in the middle of nowhere – in the hills of Assam. Although he sometimes missed the clean mountain air and the soothing birdsong, he had to admit that what he recalled most fondly from his time in Assam was the time he had spent with Lily. And that, of course, was not a matter of concern, because Lily was here with him.

On his way to the legislative offices on the bus, one Tuesday morning, he recalled his and Lily’s first meeting. He had been in desperate search of something to read, having finished his last PG Wodehouse novel weeks prior. After days of searching, he chanced upon a bookshop in the village near his residence.

It was a small, run-down house with quite a few bookshelves crammed into the small space. His joy faded quickly when he realised that the majority of the books were in Assamese, a language he barely had any grasp over. Determined to find something to read, he went to the counter, where he came across a young woman reading a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. He smiled as he realised that not all was lost.

“Please tell me you have more English novels hidden away somewhere,” he pleaded. The woman looked up at him.

She was strikingly pretty. He was immediately drawn to her eyes – almond-shaped, and piercing, as if she was looking through him.

“Lucky for you, we just got a shipment in from Calcutta,” she said. “However, I do enjoy my English novels, and would prefer to hang on to them, so you’ll have to prove you’re worthy of them before I sell one to you.”

“Er…” He paused, not sure how to respond.

She smiled. “Jokes. Wow, do you Brits not know what humour is?”

Severus was a little taken aback. Most locals around the village he had interacted with treated him with the utmost respect, almost in fear of him. This was the first person who appeared to treat him like an actual person. He had to admit, he was intrigued.

“Er. Yes. Of course.” He tried an awkward smile. “What do you have?” And so, she led him into the back room, from where he would emerge hours later, not before the two realised they had a shared love for Wodehouse.

Severus smiled at the memory. He had to admit that he felt a bit possessive of Lily. Luckily for him, moving to a new city meant that she was entirely dependent on him – she was his entirely. Of course, he knew very little about her daytime escapades, and would probably not have been as happy had he known the truth.

The bus pulled up at the office, and he disembarked, his mind on autopilot as he passed the security guard and entered the building. On the first order of business was a meeting with Avery, Mulciber, and Nott to determine just how to clamp down on the demonstrations that had started sparking regularly at Jantar Mantar. It seemed that the traditional methods of sending the police in with batons were no longer serving as a deterrent for the protestors, who seemed to have developed a newfound sense of resistance and regrouped time and again. After a certain point, Severus felt like dozing off, as Avery went on and on about how he would’ve done things back home in Yorkshire.

It was obvious that Avery had only landed a job in civil service because of his family connections. It annoyed Severus to no end when he thought about how hard he had worked to pass the civil service examinations, and people like Avery and Mulciber had simply inherited legacy positions. But there was no point dwelling on it, they were the ones he would have to most closely deal with, and there was no point going down that rabbit hole. They had dedicated themselves to the service of the Crown and were all on the same side at least. Unlike those blasted Indians that had developed this new sense of unity, which was very inconvenient for all of them.

Severus sighed. This was going to be a long day and an even longer week.

* * *

Book, notepad, pencil, dignity – Lily ran through the list of items she needed in her head as she paced around the house, preparing for her meeting. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but she knew she was bursting with excitement. Severus had been working late nights at the office lately, which gave her ample opportunity to be in and out of the house without him finding out. She felt a tinge of guilt about sneaking out behind her fiancé’s back, but somehow, she had the idea that she would not approve of her activities. Anyway, her entire perception of the Indian revolutionary movement had been filtered through a lens of Severus’s perspectives, and being shown a window into an alternative view on it had changed everything, at least in her head.

She set out into the street and walked for a bit until she found a group of rickshaws parked at the corner of the main road. Smiling politely, she walked up and asked, “Connaught Place tak kitna hoga?” How much was the fare to Connaught Place? She proceeded to engage in a bit of haggling, secretly enjoying herself. Having visited the nearby market enough times, she had learnt that most shopkeepers and rickshaw-waalas would demand exceedingly high prices at the first go, just in case someone from out of town was willing to pay the amount. Real citizens of Delhi knew that every price could be haggled down.

With the fare brought down to a reasonable 50 paisa, she was off. The rickshaw, a carriage guided by a man on a cycle in front, was an incredibly fun way to travel. Not only was it the best way to take in the sights around her, but there was also a sense of thrill to be felt from the way the wind whipped around her.

The rickshaw began to slow down as it pulled in towards the familiar sight of Connaught Place, a circular shopping arcade made predominantly of white concrete and marble. It was one of Severus’s favourite places to visit and had become a frequent destination for both of them when they fancied a night out. She recalled the last time she had been here and remembered how she had been given a flyer that she wouldn’t forget easily.

Finding The Three Broomsticks wasn’t nearly as easy. She hadn’t ever heard of the place before; it would require some exploring. Fortunately, that was something she’d become extremely proficient at. As such, she happily spent a while poking through the ins and outs of the arcade until she checked her watch and realised that it was drawing dangerously close to 6 PM. She would have to use her last resort – asking for directions.

She got a few odd looks from the first few people she asked, but the fifth one – an old man with an exceedingly long beard – grew oddly happy when asked and was more than willing to provide her with precise directions.

“Do ask for the lemon sherbert when you go. It’s an old favourite of mine, and it’s not on the menu, but I’m sure they’ll be willing to oblige,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

What an odd little man, she thought, as he walked away. His directions turned out to be spot on, however, as she found out as she proceeded around the back entrance of a tailor’s shop and ended up a dingy alleyway, with absolutely no signs. Sure enough, there was a tiny little doorway with a chalkboard over it proclaiming the name of the place. It was as if they didn’t want to be found. This made sense, she thought, if it were some kind of secret headquarters for a revolutionary movement, then being out of the way was ideal.

She pushed the door open, somewhat hesitantly, but headed in nonetheless. The moment she walked in, all doubts she had were put to rest. The inside of the pub was unlike she had anything she had seen. There were posters of all kinds pinned everywhere, featuring a wide range of subjects from jazz bands to film stars from Bombay. There was even a record player in the corner, currently playing some sort of big band swing number. Her eyes widened as she realised what it was; she’d never seen one of those before in her life but had often read about them in her novels. The oaky texture of the walls made her feel right at home, somehow, reminding her of the predominantly wooden houses that were the norm back home.

She smiled. This would do well. Glancing up at a clock in the corner, she noticed that ten minutes had passed since 6 PM. This wasn’t the first impression she wanted to make, she thought, being late. She walked up to the bartender and cleared her throat.

“Hello, is Dorcas Meadowes here?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Right this way, ma’am,” he said, setting down the glass he was polishing and leading her into a backroom.

When she walked in, she saw a group of people sitting in circles on little wicker stools. Back home, she would have called them moras.

“Ah, so our mystery girl finally arrives,” said Dorcas, waving at her. “Come join us!” Lily quickly scanned the room and saw a familiar sight.

“It can’t be you,” she said, having blurted out the words before she could realise it. Upon hearing this, the object of her attention looked up.

“Ah, Vegetable Girl, glad to see you here. I knew you’d join our lot eventually,” said the man from the vegetable stand a week ago.

“You two know each other?” asked Dorcas, vaguely amused.

“Not at all,” said Lily hurriedly. “I don’t even know his name.”

“You wound me, Vegetable Girl,” he said, smirking in that infuriating way of his.

“Stop calling me Vegetable Girl,” she said. “I do have a name, you know.”

“Ah, yes, but considering how you have not yet been kind enough to provide me with one, I’ve taken the liberty to address you as I desire.”

“Is that your unique way of asking for my name? Because that’s the most insultingly –“

“Ahem.” Lily was interrupted by a cough from Dorcas, and she realised that she had let her temper get the better of her before she had even introduced herself. What a terrible first impression to create on the group. However, she noticed that many of them were grinning up at her, watching the exchange with delight.

“I’m sorry –“ she began but was interrupted.

“No need to apologise, having tempers like yours is what brought most of us here in the first place,” said a woman sitting to Dorcas’s left. “But perhaps your anger would be more productively used not directed at James Potter, but at the imperialist regime that we’re fighting every day?”

So that was his name. James Potter. A stupid name to match a stupid face. Enough of that, she thought, you’re not here to fight with some random arsehole.

Lily took a seat, and a quick round of introductions followed. She tried very hard to match the names with the faces right away but knew that it would take a few more interactions before that knowledge was consolidated. She repeated the names in her head in order to remember them – Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black (she would remember that name – the only non-Indian in the mix), Mary Macdonald, Benjy Fenwick, Emmeline Vance – it was quite the group of people. She would have jumped into the interaction straight away, but being new to this environment, thought that she had better understand exactly what was going on first. As she observed their faces, she noticed a similar sort of expression that they were all wearing; relaxed, but ready to jump at a moment’s notice. It was the same expression she had seen on the one man in her village who had been sent off to fight in Europe for Britain in the Great War – battle-hardened. It seemed almost alien to see this worn by such young faces.

“…insider info from the Viceroy’s office tells us that they’re trying to cater to communal interests, work on the Hindu-Muslim divide that they’ve created already,” said Benjy, as Lily zoned back into the conversation. “Now in the leaflets we’re circulating, we’re trying to combat that as much as we can by appealing to everyone’s national interests, putting across the idea that being Indian goes above and beyond Hindu or Muslim.” He passed around a few sample leaflets. “These are courtesy of James and Remus. We’re lucky we have such a good artist on board,” he gestured at James, “and Remus’s writing has been turning heads for months now.” James and Remus smiled at the compliment.

“Things just haven’t been the same since the Non-Cooperation Movement in 1921,” said Mary. “I was only eighteen then, but I remember how the country just came together under Gandhi. It seemed like the first time everyone had a common goal in mind. Before that it was just splintered groups doing their own thing, dividing the movement with their own interests.”

“The spirit of the Non-Cooperation Movement is exactly the kind of energy we’re trying to capture again,” said Dorcas. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that that was a turning point for not just our country, but for those of us sitting here. I remember how little I cared for politics before I saw the way those protests could bring the British to their knees.”

“That was before Riddle came to power, mind,” said Benjy. “Since he became Governor-General of Delhi, he’s been taking every chance he can to quash any sign of dissent.”

“But I don’t think he’s been very effective,” interjected Lily. “I’ve only been here a month, but I’ve seen so many signs of the movement already. Demonstrations, leaflets, political rallies, you name it.”

Sirius smiled. “That’s because we’re fighting back as hard as we can. They take down our posters, we put them right back up. They seize our printing presses, we have four more ready to go. But it’s not been easy.”

“Demonstrations seem to be the most effective method so far,” said James. “Not only are they the best way to spread the word and educate the masses, but they’re also great at getting more people interested. Not to mention,” he grinned wickedly at this point, “they piss off the Brits like nothing else. The bigger a demonstration, the harder it is for them to do anything about it.”

Sirius’s grin matched James’s. “Cheers to that.”

“So what do you think, Lily?” said Dorcas. “We think we have pretty solid plans of action, but it doesn’t seem enough.”

“It’s an uphill battle,” shrugged Mary. “We’re never going to feel like we’re doing enough, but that’s no reason to stop.”

“I agree,” responded Dorcas, “but I think it’s important we get a newcomer’s opinion on this as well. We’ve been spending so much planning things with each other that it’s easy for us to lose perspective.

Lily thought for a second. “Well,” she began, “one thing I’d personally address is how to reach the non-English speaking populations. So much of our action depends upon the people we’re reaching speaking and understanding English, but we have to remember that we’re the minority here. I only know English as well as I do because I had an uncle who would bring me back books from Calcutta and read them to me as a child, but not everyone’s had the same opportunity.”

“That’s a very good point,” said Dorcas. “We can’t just keep catering to the upper-middle class. The Non-Cooperation Movement was only as successful as it was because it reached everyone, not just the people who speak English.”

“I think we could begin by translating some of our publications into Hindi and a few other vernacular languages,” suggested Mary. “Urdu, Punjabi, just to begin with. If anything, it’ll play to our advantage because they can’t censor publications in languages they don’t understand.”

“Agreed,” said Marlene. “James, Remus – why don’t you talk to the people at The Hindustan Times, see if they’re willing to launch a vernacular version of the newspaper?”

“We’re a bit short-staffed at the moment,” admitted Remus. “And our funding isn’t exactly doing so well. We’ll have to get a few more generous donors on our side if we’re going to make this happen.”

“Dumbledore has his connections,” said Benjy. “We’ll talk to him, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Sorry, who’s Dumbledore?” asked Lily. She’d been paying attention to the names but didn’t think anyone named Dumbledore had spoken yet. The others exchanged smiles.

“He’s our benefactor,” said Marlene. “We don’t know too much about him, but he supports the cause, and whenever we need resources, he manages to arrange things for us somehow. In fact, he’s the one who told us to use The Three Broomsticks for our meeting today.”

“I’m so glad he did,” grinned Sirius. “This place is amazing, I got absolutely plastered here last week.”

“Keep your shenanigans to yourself, Black,” retorted Marlene. “We have an agenda here.” Sirius held up his hands but said nothing.

“Just one more thing before we wrap up for tonight,” said Dorcas. “James had something he wanted to say.”

James stood up, looking around the room. He made eye contact with Lily for a brief moment, and she couldn’t help but notice just how evident his fiery passion was. He had an infectious grin, and he’d mussed up his hair thrice in the span of thirty seconds. For some reason, this didn’t seem to bother Lily as much as it had the first time he’d done it.

“We’ve been working on something,” he gestured to Remus and Sirius. “Barely anyone seems to realise what a load of bullshit the Simon Commission is – at least, they did until Remus’s article was published last week. Anyway, we think a protest is in order, and we’ve managed to secure a permit for a gathering at Rajpath.”

“Not a chance, Potter,” said Benjy. “They’d never knowingly allow a protest to take place.”

“Ah,” said James. “You see, our friend Peter is a lawyer in the Delhi High Court. It took an incredible amount of bullshitting, but he managed to disguise it as a tribute to Sir Whats-his-face – you know, the Viceroy of India from god-knows-how-long-ago. They’ll never know what’s coming.”

“And Peter won’t get strung up for it?”

“We’re not letting that happen,” said Remus. Although he had been relatively quiet throughout the meeting, he spoke up now. “We’ve filed it as a proposal from one of their own – some chap named Goyle. He won’t know what’s coming his way.”

“Lupin, you ingenious bastard,” breathed Dorcas. “Who knew you had such an evil side to you?”

Sirius laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. Try living with him and eating the last samosa.”

“Anyway, this is happening on 15th April, at 6 PM. After work hours so the maximum number of people can make it,” said James. “We’ve been working hard on making sure it all goes according to plan, so spread the word.” He handed out a few flyers, and Lily recognised the familiar flyer she had stashed away in her room. She saw impressed nods around the room.

“Well, if that’s all, I suppose we should wrap it up. It’s getting late,” said Mary. Lily looked at the clock and her heart sank. 8 PM. Severus was probably home by now. But there was very little she could do about that now.

The others looked at the clock and seemed to have similar realisations of their own about duties elsewhere. Everyone packed up their things in a hurry, and she shook a lot of hands on their way out, including James’s, who gave her what may have been either an encouraging smile or a proud smirk. It was hard to tell just yet. She was still trying to understand this character, who would be a complete arsehole to her, but could stand up and speak so passionately for causes like this. Last was Dorcas, who pulled her aside for a quick word.

“I hope you liked what you saw today,” she said.

Lily’s eyes lit up. “Liked? I’m beyond excited. There’s so much happening, and there’s so much energy and just –“ she trailed off. Dorcas seemed to understand.

“Good,” she laughed. “The others were a bit peeved at me when I mentioned that I invited a complete stranger to a meeting like this, but I think it paid off. I knew I had the right sort of feeling about you.” She clapped Lily’s shoulder. “See you next week.”

Lily was the last one out, thanking the bartender on her way out. As she walked out in the warm summer evening, she saw James and his friends, Remus and Sirius standing under a tree, talking quietly. Their conversation grew quiet as she approached them.

“I think we might have got off to the wrong start,” she said, not entirely sure what she was doing. “Hello. Lily Evans.” She extended her hand to James.

“You’ll always be Vegetable Girl in my heart of hearts, Evans,” he said, shaking her hand. “James Potter, resident rogue.”

“Is that how you introduce yourself to all the ladies? I’m sure you win many hearts that way.”

“They come flocking to me, I’ll have you know.”

“He’s lying,” Sirius stage-whispered to her. “Lovely meeting you, Evans.”

“Likewise,” she said. Remus had remained quiet so far, but she had something to say to him as well, time be damned.

“I’d absolutely love to read what you’ve written, especially if it’ll help me understand things more. I’m still very new to all this, as you can see.”

“I’ll bring you a copy next meeting,” he said, smiling.

“Wow, flirt with all of my friends, why don’t you? Don’t worry, I’m not feeling left out or anything,” said James. She glared at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was just being polite. Not something you know how to do.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the epitome of manners.”

“Yes, and ruining my attempts to make peace with you by being your usual arsehole self is the epitome of manners?”

“Already have me pegged for an arsehole, do you? Words hurt, Evans.”

“Then prove yourself otherwise.”

“You’re just in denial. I’m perfectly lovely to you, and you go insulting me with absolutely no provocation!”

Lily could have shot back, but the thought of Severus crept into her mind. She was a bit disappointed; she was rather enjoying this little back-and-forth, despite herself.

“Lucky for you, Potter, I’m expected at home,” she said, determined to have the last word. She spun around on her heel and took off, the realisation setting in that she was extremely late. As she walked towards the rickshaw stand, she felt her heart pounding – probably from all the excitement of the meeting, right?

Right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was quite a lot of fun to write. Unfortunately, my end-of-school exams are coming up in a month, and I'll be a little hard-pressed for time in the weeks to come. I'm hoping to keep up my current rate of uploading, but if I do go MIA, my apologies in advance. Feel free to message me on my tumblr, same username as my AO3.

Sirius had had enough of the unemployed lifestyle. He’d worked his way through a substantial portion of the money he had pocketed when he’d run away from home and was beginning to come to terms with the fact that he might need a genuine source of income now. Not to mention, it was fairly boring being unemployed. Sure, he’d made the most of it, engaging in shenanigans almost every other day, but as much as he hated to admit it, his take on rebellion could do with some adjustments. As such, he tore through the classified section of The Times of India in secret, looking for jobs that caught his fancy. He didn’t have much to offer in terms of skill, but he figured that a healthy dose of enthusiasm would more than makeup for it.

That was why, on the 5th of April, he proceeded to a bookshop in Jorbagh that was looking for an assistant. His private education at The Doon School had been chaotic and had nearly concluded in multiple expulsions, but it had given him a very solid basis in literature. He had embraced this aspect of his education, especially when he realised that his socialist heroes had been extremely well-read. This had paid off for him in other respects as well, considering that his English teacher had been the one who had just barely prevented him from expulsion a handful of times.

The bookshop, called Flourish and Blotts, was a small and compact place that was filled to the brim. The moment he entered, the man behind the counter tensed up. Sirius understood why instantly. The bookshop made no effort to hide the revolutionary literature it displayed proudly, and he imagined that a strange white man walking in meant trouble. He put the man at ease right away.

“Don’t worry, I’m not one of them,” he said. The man raised an eyebrow.

“You certainly don’t sound British.”

Sirius nodded. He’d been making an active effort to repress his British accent these past few years, and he almost sounded convincingly Indian now. He had made more efforts to distance himself from his heritage than he would ever let on to anyone, even James and Remus.

“I’m Kuldeep Singh, and this is my bookshop. How can I help you?” said the main. He had an admirable beard and was clad in a Sikh turban.

“I’m here to apply for the assistant position.”

“Very well.” He led Sirius through a little trapdoor on the floor behind him, apologising for the unconventional entrance. Sirius couldn’t have been more thrilled. A secret room in a bookshop? This was one of the coolest things he’d seen. The only thing that could have made it better was if a bookshelf turned out to be a secret door.

The back room was incredibly cosy, with a couple of sofas and a little table in the middle. The walls were predominantly made of oak, which was vaguely comforting.

“Take a seat.”

Sirius obliged, sitting on one of the sofas and making himself comfortable. “Nice place you’ve got here.” Kuldeep smiled in thanks, taking a seat as well. He seemed to be a man of few words.

Kuldeep spread his hands, indicating that Sirius should start speaking.

“My name is Sirius Black, I’m the most well-read revolutionary you’ll find, and I think that your bookshop is one of the coolest places I’ve seen in a while.”

“Thank you. Rather brave of you to declare your allegiances openly.”

“I don’t plan on beating around the bush.”

“Then we’ll get along fine. Tell me, why are you here?”

“As I said, I want to be an assistant –“

“That’s not what I mean.”

Sirius paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m incredibly familiar with literature of all kinds, and I feel right at home here.”

“That’s a bold claim to make. I’d expect an assistant to know my stock inside out.”

“I assure you, it’ll take me no time to work through your stock.”

“Prove it.”

Sirius hesitated. “How?”

“I’ve categorised my bookshop immaculately. I want you to pick three genres that seem interesting to you, pick one book from each, and then talk about each one with me. You have an hour.” Sirius had noticed the clearly labelled bookshelves on the way in, noting that each one had a genre indicated above it with a handwritten sign. If he was being honest, he’d expected to breeze his way through the interview, but it seemed that this man actually had standards.

He smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been challenged like this. There was something vaguely thrilling about it. “I’m on it.”

He decided to pick a diverse range of genres, hoping to impress the man to the best of his abilities. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was so motivated to do the best job he could, but it was game time and nothing could distract from his mission. He perused the mystery section, picking up what appeared to be a translation of a Bengali detective novel. Following this, he turned to the philosophy section and saw something he recognised – Plato’s _Republic_. He would get along fine with this. Finally, he wandered over to the contemporary non-fiction section (which he correctly guessed was a translation for revolutionary literature) and picked out _My Experiments With Truth_ – Gandhi’s autobiography. This was essential reading for all young Indian revolutionaries, and he knew that it would firmly establish his stances.

The hour passed by in a flash. He spent twenty minutes on each one; at first, attempting to read as quickly as he could before he realised that it made more sense to figure out the core ideas behind each one, and then attempt to bullshit a discussion as well as he could.

“Your time’s up.”

Shit. He’d barely made it through the first couple of chapters of the detective novel, _Byomkesh Bakshi_. He’d gotten far too invested in the protagonist’s adventures to realise just how quickly the time had passed. He followed Kuldeep into his back room, slightly nervous about what was to follow.

He shook his head. Why was he nervous? He knew that he could just apply for another job if this one didn’t pan out. Yet, he had somehow taken Kuldeep’s challenge as an oddly personal one, and he knew he would be devastated if he let himself down.

“What books did you pick?”

Sirius held out his three choices. He thought he saw a hint of a smile at the corner of Kuldeep’s lips, but couldn’t quite tell.

“Let’s begin. Why should I, a complete stranger to philosophy, read Plato’s _Republic_?”

“Well, not delving into the kind of impact Plato has had on western philosophy, I would say that the best reason for a stranger to philosophy to give it a go would be because it is simply an enjoyable read. It’s not at all complicated in terms of its language, and the conversations feel realistic and human.”

“Then what’s the point? Why not just read a cheap romance novel if I’m looking for something I can enjoy?”

“Because the impact goes far beyond just being an enjoyable experience. Sure, that’s what you get at the face of it, but each conversation in the book condenses some of Plato’s most important philosophical ideas into a form that’s easy to digest and gives you something to think about.”

“Doesn’t simplifying philosophy into a form that’s easy to understand undermine the very nature of the discipline in the first place?”

“Not at all. Using language as a barrier from accessing more complicated ideas is just a way for academics to gatekeep what they’ve spent years trying to understand.”

“Are you suggesting that years of study on an academic discipline are completely useless?”

It was almost like a sword fight. Kuldeep shot question after question at Sirius, and he had to think on his feet to answer them. Prior to this, he never would have imagined that a discussion about books could feel like a battle, but that’s exactly what this was. Each question was an attack, and he had to stay on the defensive. Somehow, he was immensely enjoying himself, too lost in the conversation to make his usual snarky remarks.

By the time the two wrapped up, it was nearing 5 PM, and Sirius remembered the protest he’d promised to attend with James, Remus, and Peter.

“I’m impressed,” said Kuldeep.

“I’m not just a pretty face,” said Sirius, smirking. “Just to be clear, why the hell should a shop assistant have to be able to discuss things like this? I thought I’d just be keeping records and making deliveries and such.”

“How do you expect to sell my books to customers if you don’t have any real appreciation for them in the first place?”

Sirius held up his hands. “Fair enough.”

He left the phone number to the flat behind, being told that he would get a call in a few days’ time about whether he’d got the job. Bidding farewell in a hurry, he rushed out of the shop and started sprinting towards the rickshaw stand. He was halfway on his way to Jantar Mantar when he realised that he’d forgotten to discuss the most important thing of all – his salary. Despite himself, he smiled. This wasn’t going to be an afternoon he forgot anytime soon.

* * *

“So what’s going to happen? You said there were people speaking, right? Should I have memorised some slogans before coming?”

“Holy fuck, Lily, can you calm down? You’re the only person on Earth who can overthink a protest like this.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m just excited! This is all very new to me.”

Lily and Dorcas were on their way to Jantar Mantar in a rickshaw for what was about to be Lily’s first protest. Dorcas had expected more of a protest from Lily when she called the house, asking if she was interested, but Lily had agreed enthusiastically – almost a bit too enthusiastically. The two had met at the rickshaw stand in Lily’s neighbourhood, where she had almost been bouncing with energy.

“Look, it’s very simple. We mill around, there’s a couple of speeches, there’s some slogan chanting, and then we run off before the police arrest us,” explained Dorcas. “We’ve done this so many times that it’s like clockwork at this point – WHOA THERE!”

The rickshaw had gone over a bump and sent them into the air for half a moment.

“Sorry, ma’am,” called out the rickshaw-waala. Dorcas checked her kurta pockets to make sure her wallet hadn’t gone flying out.

“These things are evil,” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you kidding? I love rickshaws,” said Lily, smiling widely.

“You’re secretly a maniac, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you revolutionary types supposed to be adventurous?”

“Just because I want to dismantle the oppressive –“

“You’re so dramatic, Dorcas, dismantle the oppressive state etcetera etcetera – you can’t even handle a rickshaw!”

Dorcas crossed her arms. “Stop bullying me.” She’d clicked with Lily far quicker than she would have expected, and the two had developed a dynamic that she was very comfortable with.

“Are you going to be speaking?”

“It depends. These things are a bit of a sausage-fest, you know? The men love to hear the sound of their own voice at these things, but sometimes if they feel generous, they’ll call me up.”

“That’s not fair,” frowned Lily. “You should get more of an opportunity.”

Dorcas shrugged. “Priorities, you know? I don’t want to start arguments with people on our side.”

“Just because they’re on our side doesn’t make them right without fail every time.”

“I know, but it’s just something I’ve accepted by this point. Besides, Benjy gets it, and he puts in a word for me when he can.”

“Benjy seems like quite the character, I remember he had a lot of opinions at the meeting.”

“He really is, though. I remember he wasn’t like that at all when we first met. He’s really come out of his shell.”

“How did you get involved with this lot, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Honestly,” began Dorcas, “it was college for most of us. We were all in the same theatre and debate circuits at Delhi University, so we kind of grew up around each other. The DU student politics scene is incredibly active as well, so we started going to a lot of the same AISF meetings together.”

“AISF?”

“The All India Students’ Federation. It’s this left-leaning student-run political organisation, and they used to hold these secret rallies every other week.”

“But didn’t the British do anything about that?”

“They can’t interfere with student-led stuff much. They barely have a clue what goes on at Delhi University, to be honest, since most of them go back to the UK for university.”

“That makes sense. The whole left-leaning bit sounds like something Severus would disapprove of.”

“Severus?”

Lily seemed to freeze up, and Dorcas wondered whether she’d touched upon a nerve. She met her eyes, and Lily seemed to relax.

“Look, I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but,” Lily sighed, “I’m engaged to a British civil servant.”

Dorcas’s eyes widened. She couldn’t help herself asking, “What? Why?”

“He’s really not that bad,” Lily rushed to defend him. “He’s lovely to me.”

“Maybe, but he’s still the enemy!”

Lily said nothing for a moment, and Dorcas realised that this was an incredibly soft spot for her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t just brush it off. There had to be some sort of explanation here.

“Severus is not the enemy,” insisted Lily. “He’s just doing his job.”

Dorcas wanted to disagree, but it seemed clear that Lily wouldn’t budge on this. She decided to pursue a different route.

“What does he think of his fiancée being out and about, attending protests and spending time with revolutionaries?”

“Well, er, he doesn’t actually know.” Dorcas grinned at this.

“So you’re effectively leading a double life?”

“It seems so.”

Dorcas hesitated for a moment, before continuing on. “You should be careful who you tell about this. I’m not going to press the matter any further, because it’s obvious you care about him, but if the others found out – or if he found out – things could get ugly.”

Lily forced a smile. “I’m still figuring things out. As I said, I’m very new to all this.”

“And I can see that you actually do care about this,” said Dorcas, and she meant it. Lily’s passion when she talked about the movement was clearly evident.

“I do,” said Lily. “It’s not something I’m getting involved in just for the hell of it. It feels like something I’ve missed my whole life, and now that I have the opportunity to make a difference, I’m not going to give up on it.”

“What d’you mean, ‘missed your whole life’? Surely you must have known about the independence movement before this?” asked Dorcas, vaguely confused.

“I didn’t,” admitted Lily. “In my village in Assam, we were completely isolated. The most contact we had with the outside world was when my father went to Calcutta, the nearest big city, to purchase goods. And even then, he’d only tell me the bare minimum.”

Everything was starting to fall into place now. “And Severus –“

“Was posted at my village. That’s how I met him. He brought me to Delhi, and he’s the reason I’m here in the first place.”

Dorcas suddenly understood far more about Lily’s life than she ever had. Even if Lily wasn’t ready to admit it, and she was still clinging to her affection for Severus, Dorcas realised exactly why she’d agreed to marry him in the first place. It all made sense now.

As if she realised what was going through Dorcas’s mind, Lily suddenly spoke up. “No, no, Dorcas, it’s not like that. I do love Severus, and we’ve had some amazing times together. I can’t just forget all of that. I really do care for him. And I know that he cares about me just as much.”

Dorcas couldn’t argue with that. She could hear the sincerity in her voice. Besides, she couldn’t be the one to force Lily to choose. Deep down, Lily knew that it was a choice she would have to make at some point.

She was about to open her mouth to speak when the rickshaw came to a halt.

“ _Pahunch gaye_ , ma’am,” said the rickshaw-waala. We’ve arrived. Lily and Dorcas stepped down out of the rickshaw and pooled their money to count out the fare. With a salute, the man was off.

“Welcome to Jantar Mantar,” said Dorcas, watching Lily take in the sight before her. They were standing at the mouth of an extremely wide road, packed to the brim with protestors. There was a makeshift stage at one edge of the road, with a mic and a set of speakers on stage. As usual, there were people carrying signs and flags, the Indian tricolour featuring the most heavily. She smiled as Lily gaped at the sheer number of people. The turnout this time was fantastic. If she had to estimate, she would have put it at around a thousand-odd people.

“Shall we?” said Dorcas, and Lily smiled at her.

“Let’s.”

* * *

As Remus walked towards Jantar Manter, accompanied by James, Sirius and Peter, he watched James fuss over all of them with some degree of amusement.

“Everyone tied up their shoelaces properly? I’m not having any of you trip and fall when we’re running from the police.”

“For fuck’s sake, James, calm down. We know what we’re doing. We’ve done this enough times before,” snapped Sirius.

“Peter hasn’t,” pointed out James, and Peter went red.

“Don’t you worry, Peter, you’re with us,” said Remus. He could almost see Peter shaking with nervousness.

“Yeah, we won’t let anything happen to you,” said Sirius, slapping him on the back. “Cheer up! It’s your first protest. This doesn’t happen every day.”

“I just don’t know what to expect,” said Peter. “I’ve never really done this before.”

“It’ll be fun,” said James, beaming. “You’ll get to listen to some lovely speeches, do some chanting, and then we’ll leave before things get ugly.”

“What’s this protest about, anyway?” asked Remus. “Is it a general-purpose type thing?”

“Vaguely,” said James. “It’s mainly because Subhash Chandra Bose just arrived from Calcutta, and people wanted to hear him speak.”

“Oooh, he’s a controversial one, that Bose,” said Sirius. “He advocates for all-out revolution rather than just peaceful protesting.”

“His methods are a bit extreme,” admitted Remus, “but there’s no doubt that he stirs up passion.”

“Hey look, we’re here,” grinned James, pointing. Remus could never get used to the sight of this many people gathered together like this, and every time he attended a protest, it took him a second to adjust.

“Come on, let’s find Dorcas and the others,” said Sirius, leading them forward. As they walked into the crowd, Remus looked over at Peter to see how he was dealing with this. His eyes were wide with amazement, and he seemed to be in a bit of a daze as he wandered through the crowd. Remus had to pull him out of the way when he nearly walked into a wooden sign.

There was a buzz in the air as they made their way through the masses of people. It was clear everyone was especially excited to be there. Sirius led the way, taking them towards where the makeshift stage had been set up, knowing that most of the more active revolutionaries tended to hang around together near the front. The three of them had been through enough protests to have internalised the dynamic by now, Remus mused.

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw James’s eyes light up. He called out, “Hey, Evans!” and Remus hid a smile. Sure enough, Lily Evans was right there, Dorcas Meadowes in tow.

Dorcas came forward, giving each of them a hug in greeting.

“Dorcas, this is Peter. This is his first protest,” said James, pulling Peter forward, who waved.

“That’s great because this is Lily’s first protest as well!” said Dorcas, and James raised an eyebrow.

“Sure you’re not too out of your depth, Evans?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks,” snapped Lily, now distracted from exchanging pleasant greetings with Remus, who didn’t mind. There was something vaguely entertaining about watching Lily and James go back and forth. It was like watching a tennis match.

“Careful now, you want to save some of that energy for the actual protest. Can’t have you tired out before then.”

“You want to save some of your brains for when you speak, but wait, you don’t have any.”

“Ooooh, got him there, Evans,” chimed in Sirius from the side before returning to his conversation with Dorcas.

“You stay out of this, Sirius,” said James.

“Why, afraid I’ll distract you from your flirting?”

James immediately went red. “I – what – flirting –“ he stammered out, suddenly having lost control over his mouth.

“We should have a moment of silence for your dignity, Potter,” smirked Lily. “Not that you ever had any.”

“I’m up to my ears in dignity, I’ll have you know.”

“That’s a pleasant sight, I’m sure.”

“What would you know about pleasant sights, Evans?”

“I’m a woman of fine taste.”

“Clearly, I can tell from the kurta.”

“You wish you had a kurta as cool as mine.” Remus took a moment to examine Lily’s kurta for himself and was somewhat amused to find that it was covered in little illustrations of tigers.

“I don’t need to compensate for my lack of an interesting personality with a kurta,” said James.

“If I’m so boring, then why are you still talking to me?” responded Lily.

“To prove a point, of course.”

“Yes, you’re doing a fine job of that.”

“Sarcasm does not become you.”

“Your face does not become you.”

“Resorting to some basic insults, have we? Wouldn’t expect any better of you, Evans.”

“Oi, shut up now,” said Sirius. “As much as I’d love to watch you two dance around your unresolved sexual tension all day, Bose is coming.” Sure enough, when Remus craned his neck, he saw a small, Bengali man approaching the stage from off to the side. Whispers spread through the crowd as they realised who this was.

“Is that really him –“

“I hear he’s got the Congress wrapped around his little finger –“

“But he looks so normal –“

“He wears glasses just like yours, James,” said Sirius, nudging James. Remus realised that Peter hadn’t spoken in a while, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“You okay?”

Peter smiled nervously. “I’m just not used to all this, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll all make sense once the speeches start.”

“I just don’t understand how people can come out in droves and declare their allegiances openly, you know? They must be so brave.”

“I think there’s just an understanding that some things are bigger than ourselves,” said Remus, reflecting on how he’d come to the same conclusion himself when he’d first gotten involved with student politics. He watched Bose make his way onto the stage. The hundreds of people in the audience were watching him with bated breath.

These larger-than-life figures did end up looking far more normal than most people expected them to, thought Remus. He remembered the time he had heard Jawaharlal Nehru, another prominent Indian revolutionary politician. He had looked just like anyone else, until he started speaking, at which point he had captured the attention of the audience as if it were magic. It was fair to assume that Bose would have the same effect.

As if on cue, he started speaking, and silence spread over the audience.

"Friends! Today I shall give you an account of our achievements during the past year and shall place before you our demands for the coming year. But, before I do so, I want you to realize once again what a golden opportunity we have for winning freedom.” He certainly didn’t beat around the bush. Remus listened intently as Bose went on.

“The Indian National Congress, the largest political organisation that this country has seen, has been working tirelessly towards making the demands of the Indian people clear to the British. The most we’ve received in return is the offer of dominion status, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say that this is simply an attempt to placate us, for dominion status means that we remain under British subjugation in effect, if not in name. We will still be answerable to the Crown, and our dream of true self-government will not be realised. This is unacceptable.” A roar went up from the crowd.

“As we speak, the British government are seeking to negotiate terms of self-government that will put them in a position where they can continue to exploit us. Their attempts to bring about ‘constitutional reforms’ through the Simon Commission – a commission that is comprised entirely of British men, may I add – is nothing more than bluster to distract us from the real goal, which is complete independence.

“In 1921, the Non-Cooperation Movement spread far and wide across the country, uniting each and every Indian in a common struggle for independence. We have seen the power that these mass movements can have. The British were forced to come to terms with the fact that the will of the Indian people cannot be broken, and united behind a common cause, we are unstoppable. I want you to bear this idea in mind, for it will certainly be our most effective tool against colonial subjugation. First, however, I will quickly summarise what we have been working towards this past year.”

As Remus listened, Bose talked about the different sessions of the Congress he had attended, barely disguising his annoyance with the bureaucracy of the political system. It was clear that he was building up to something more. He did mention that the Congress was in the process of drafting a resolution for _poorna swaraj_ – complete independence. This seemed interesting to Remus. It meant that the Congress would no longer be pulling its punches in a faux attempt at diplomacy, and would be giving the revolutionary movement their all. The fact that the country’s largest political organisation was fighting for them was sure to be a boost of morale to many.

“What I have learned through my experiences fighting for our people is that the true power lies with the masses. The way forward, I believe, has to be a call to arms. I ask every man, woman, and child to organise around the banner of freedom that unites us all.

“Gird up your loins for the task that now lies ahead. I had asked you for men, money and materials. I have got them in generous measure. Now I demand more of you. Men, money and materials cannot by themselves bring victory or freedom. We must have the motive-power that will inspire us to brave deeds and heroic exploits.

“It will be a fatal mistake for you to wish to live and see India free simply because victory is now within reach. No one here should have the desire to live to enjoy freedom. A long fight is still in front of us.

“We should have but one desire today – the desire to die so that India may live – the desire to face a martyr’s death, so that the path to freedom may be paved with the martyr’s blood.

“Friends! My comrades in the War of Liberation! Today I demand of you one thing, above all. I demand of you blood. It is blood alone that can avenge the blood that the enemy has spilt. It is blood alone that can pay the price of freedom.

“Give me blood and I promise you freedom.”

As he finished, the audience burst in thunderous applause. A chant of Jai Hind went up, and although Remus felt that the last portion of the speech had been a bit questionable, glorifying a martyr’s death, he couldn’t deny that it had been a powerful one. While everyone around him was swept up in the excitement, Remus noticed a group of policemen slowly forming a perimeter around the audience. He tapped James on the shoulder.

“Time to run,” he said quietly, pointing out the uniform-clad men, visibly displaying their batons. James swore under his breath.

“Turned up a bit early this time, no?”

“Well, what do you expect after a speech like that?”

“True. Alright, let’s move.” James informed those surrounding him quickly of the predicament, while Remus turned to Peter.

“We’re getting ready to make a run for it. Don’t worry, you’ll be completely safe. Just stick with the group and there’ll be absolutely no problem at all.” He saw Peter’s eyes widen, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are we ready, James?”

“Let’s go.”

With James leading the way, the group quickly ducked and weaved their way through the crowd. Remus noticed that Lily was clinging tight to Dorcas’s hand, and realised that this must have been just as scary for her as it was for Peter. There was an unprecedented amount of policemen surrounding them this time, but this certainly wasn’t the time to worry.

As they approached the edge of the crowd, emerging just behind the stage, James whispered quietly.

“On my cue. Three, two, one, run.”

A burst of adrenaline shot through Remus’s system as he began sprinting. He had learned to go in zig-zag directions; it slowed him down, but it confused the policemen enough to evade capture. James was leading the charge, carving out the path for them to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw policemen closing in on them from each direction, which gave him another burst of adrenaline. He watched as James jumped a bush into a nearby park and began sprinting across the grass. He followed suit, one eye on Peter to make sure he made the jump successfully. Thankfully enough, all of them made it, and James took them through the park. They exited out onto the main road, which Remus recognised as Janpath. This was a busy road, with the Bank of India located just opposite the park. James had chosen well.

“Mingle, _mingle_ ,” hissed James. “Regroup at Connaught Place in five minutes, just down the road.”

Following James’s lead, the group merged with the crowded street. Remus kept one hand firmly placed on Peter’s shoulder, guiding him along. He wove in and out of the crowd until he was sure that they were completely out of sight of the police, at which point he allowed himself to sigh, not realising he’d been holding his breath.

“Alright, let’s go. We should be okay now.”

Peter was clearly out of breath, huffing and puffing. “That was insane,” he said in between breaths. “I can’t believe you do this every day.”

“Well, not every day,” smiled Remus. “But often enough. It keeps us fit.”

Peter chuckled nervously at the joke but seemed to worn out to say anything else. A short walk later, they were standing at the entry to Connaught Place, the entire group nearly having gathered there.

“So, what did you think, Lily?” asked Dorcas, clearly eager to distract them from how close they’d come to get caught.

Lily’s eyes shone. “Fucking amazing,” she said. “I’ve never felt this alive in my life.”

“Nice to hear that you get off on running from the police because we do that a lot in this way of life,” said James. He was smiling, however. “Good work, Evans. And Peter, you too!” Peter smiled at the compliment as well, still too exhausted to say anything.

“Stop for a quick bite at Wenger’s, and then head home?” suggested Sirius. “We may as well, considering we’re here.” There was a chorus of agrees, and Sirius led the way to his favourite sandwich shop, as the group talked animatedly. Lily had a lot to say about her first protest, and Remus couldn’t help but notice how James was listening to her intently. He suppressed a smile and kept walking.

What a day.

* * *

It had been a good day for Severus so far. Not only had he made serious progress with his new increased press censorship proposal but he had also been told that the Governor-General of New Delhi, Tom Riddle, was awaiting him at Rashtrapati Bhavan for a special meeting. A car had been sent for him to the office, which made him feel all the more that he was finally being appreciated for his efforts. He had spent the past month in Delhi tirelessly grinding away at shutting down the independence movement, making numerous arrests, and it seemed that it was all paying off.

At 6 PM, Severus stepped outside the office to find a Rolls-Royce waiting for him at the door. He got into the car, excited yet tense about what the meeting awaiting him was going to offer.

It was a short drive from the Civil Services Office to Rashtrapati Bhavan – an enormous building that had been constructed for the Viceroy of India as well as the administrative leadership of Delhi to use as their offices and residence. The drive had taken him through India Gate and Rajpath, which provided quite the scenic view.

The car pulled up in front of the Rashtrapati Bhavan, and Severus stepped out. It truly was a sight to behold. An enormous set of pillars made up the front of the building, which seemed to extend endlessly in either direction. There was a massive dome at the top of the building, with the Union Jack hoisted in the middle.

Severus smiled and stepped in. He was put through some intense security and was frisked thoroughly before he was allowed in. A secretary at the door guided him towards Riddle’s meeting room. As he walked, he marvelled at the interior of the building, unable to tear his eyes away from his incredibly fancy surroundings. The floor was carpeted all the way through, and there were elaborate chandeliers at each entrance.

He was led into a room with around 6 or 7 other people sitting at a table. His eyes immediately drifted towards the podium, where a man was standing next to a map of Delhi pinned up beside him. The man was handsome in an eerie way, almost like he had been sculpted from a block of marble. As he spoke, his words flowed out smoothly in a way that made you want to sit down, shut up, and listen to every single word.

Severus guessed correctly that this must be Tom Riddle.

Riddle noticed him walk in and smiled. “Hello, Severus. Please do come in.” Severus obliged, taking a seat. He felt all eyes in the room on him.

“I’d like you to meet my colleagues. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange – my personal secretary and Finance Minister respectively.” He motioned towards a couple of people Severus could only assume were husband and wife.

Riddle proceeded around the table, identifying the rest of them. “Lucius Malfoy, Justice. Minister. Augustus Rookwood, Education Minister. Jonathan Goyle, Chief of Police. Theodore Crabbe, Intelligence Minister.” As he spoke, each one stood and nodded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Severus Snape. He’s a highly-ranked member of the civil service, and he’ll be joining our meetings from this point forth because of the invaluable contribution he’s made towards suppressing the Indian revolt.”

Goyle sneered. “You expect us to believe that a mere civil servant is at the same level of prestige as the rest of us?”

Riddle fixed him with a steely glance. His expression didn’t change, but he spoke in a venomous voice. “If any of you has a problem with Severus being here, you can leave, but don’t be expected to be invited back.”

The tension in the air was palpable. It felt like one wrong word could trigger an explosion. Riddle had an iron grip over the room, and he was well aware of the kind of power he had.

He smiled, albeit one that was clearly fake. “Very well, then, shall we begin? Let’s get Severus up to speed, to begin with. Who wants to volunteer?”

Lucius Malfoy stood. “It would be my pleasure.” He proceeded to the podium with a folder in hand.

“Severus, for the past six months, we’ve been working towards crushing the revolt in Delhi once and for all. This city is a hotbed for revolutionary activity, and it’s like fighting a hydra. You take down one leader, two more sprout up. We’ve realised that no matter how many arrests we wake, no matter leaders you take down, they’re not going to give up. They’ve got this fighting spirit that just doesn’t seem to ebb. That’s why we need to crush their hope as well, and we need to be systematic about it.” He cleared his throat and looked towards Riddle, seemingly for approval. Riddle nodded, indicating that he should continue.

“That’s why we’re fighting this war on multiple fronts. Along with trying to identify and target prominent leaders, we’re also starting a new push in favour of suppressing propaganda. That means bookshops, leaflets, newspapers – we shut down as many of those as we can. We need to identify prominent meeting spots and shut those down as well. We’re also hoping to increase our police presence around the city to act as a deterrent for the general public.”

“Not to mention,” Augustus Rookwood spoke up, “we’ve been neglecting the Delhi University circles as a hotbed of revolutionary activity. Unfortunately, we have very little information on what’s going on on that front, since the students are young and keep to themselves for the most part.”

“We heard of your proposal about increasing press censorship,” said Riddle. “That’s what drew our attention towards you in the first place.”

“How can I offer my services?” asked Severus, intrigued. This was quite the departure from the everyday drudgery he was used to.

“Isn’t he eager,” drawled Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Quiet, Bella,” snapped Riddle. She retreated back into her seat, like a wounded puppy.

“You see, Severus, we need someone on the ground. We’re getting substantial amounts of intelligence through Crabbe’s sources,” he motioned at Theodore Crabbe, “but we need someone to put that information together, follow up on leads, and help prioritise our targets accordingly.”

On cue, Lucius put up a few sketches of a few Indian faces on the board. “I know I said that arresting rebels isn’t enough, but it certainly won’t hurt to make some regular arrests to keep the Indian scum on their toes.” He pointed at a stern, yet young face.

“This is Aryan Anand, leader of the AISF, a student organisation. He conducts these secret rallies regularly, and he’s responsible for radicalising hundreds of young students.” He pointed to another face, this time slightly older.

“Shiv Bhatia. He’s a self-proclaimed anarchist, responsible for stirring up some of the worst riots Delhi has seen. He’s probably the one we have the most evidence on, but somehow, he evades arrest at the last second.” He moved on.

“Vanaj Moorthy. He’s a smuggler of arms and resources, usually gets sourced from the Soviet Union. He’s a bit of a mystery character. We only know he exists because of what we’ve been told by rebels under interrogation.”

In a similar fashion, he went through most of the faces on the board, until he landed at one that Severus thought he recognised, for some reason.

“James Potter. He’s an up-and-coming rebel, one of the leading members of the Order of the Phoenix – a rebel group that’s got its fingers in nearly every pie in Delhi. It’s a small, tight-knit group, and we have barely any information on them. All we know is that is they’re responsible for half the revolutionary activity that goes on in Delhi.” Severus recognised the messy hair and glasses and realised where he’d seen Potter before, having run into him and his gang of hooligans at Connaught Place. His immediate hatred of Potter made complete sense now. He knew there was something off about him.

“So what’s stopping us from just arresting them right away?” he asked. “At least the ones that are in plain sight, that is.”

“We need to be clever about it. If we arrest them publicly at a protest, they’ll just become martyrs for the movement. But if we get them quietly in the middle of the night, then their associates will just carry on without them. We need to do it in a way that sends a message to the revolutionaries,” said Lucius.

“Well, Severus,” said Riddle, “I hope you have a better idea of what we do around here. We’ll be meeting every other day at 6 pm. Now that you’re one of us, know that I expect the best of the best from you. Any weakness will not be tolerated. As your first assignment, I want you to pick one of these rebels and investigate them to the best of your abilities. Report back to us on the 7th, at the same time.” As he spoke, he wandered over the front of the room, by the podium.

“You’re all dismissed,” he said, whipping around.

Quietly, the other members filtered out of the room. Severus was about to follow suit when Riddle said, “A moment, please, Severus.” He waited until everyone had left, and turned to Riddle.

“If you show loyalty to me, Severus, you will be rewarded beyond your dreams,” said Riddle. “However… I understand that you have an Indian fiancée?”

Severus went white. He stammered out, “Yes, sir, I do. Her name’s Lily.”

Riddle clicked his tongue quietly. “Tut tut. You know that won’t do. You will have to make a choice eventually. We cannot have a single weak link in this room.”

“I assure you, sir, I’m not a weak link –“

“I decide who’s weak.” Riddle had cut him off, venomously. “If anything we discuss here leaks, I’ll know who to blame. Do you understand? I will not have a traitor to the cause.”

Severus quietly forced out the words, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now leave.”

He was only too happy to oblige.


End file.
